


Promotion

by Anonymous



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night (Visual Novel)
Genre: After the Bad Ending, Gilgamesh (Fate) Being an Asshole, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/referenced non-consensual body modification, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Mpreg, Other, Porn With Plot, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 11:52:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19376161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Be grateful, mongrel. To be given a chance to elevate yourself is an opportunity you certainly don't deserve. To contribute to my legacy is reward far beyond what any counterfeiter deserves. But I suppose the punishment for your crimes can be reduced, if you serve me well.





	Promotion

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [王与无名之人 The King and the Nameless](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4909336) by [Nobodyknows_conspiracytheory_of_AOZAKI](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nobodyknows_conspiracytheory_of_AOZAKI/pseuds/Nobodyknows_conspiracytheory_of_AOZAKI). 



Sweat-shined skin relaxed and slowly the feeling of spiders dancing under his skin began to fade as soon as the king came in him. Heavy breathing slowed gradually, and he waited for Gilgamesh to pull out.

As moments passed, he let the tension ease from his body. The lightheaded dizziness of pleasureless sex faded, and the knot of anxiety in his stomach loosened. His body let go of the vice-grip it held on Gilgamesh’s cock, his participation no longer needed to bring the king to completion.

Eventually Gilgamesh let go and the man’s legs fell from the king’s shoulders as the king slid out of him. The king rolled to the side, falling in the bed. Unbidden, the man took that as permission to fall onto his back and lie next to Gilgamesh. All the while red eyes watched him.

It was alright, if they weren’t starting another round right away. Certainly what had just finished had been rushed, harsh and uncomfortable, with the king’s desire pent up over the last few months. Even with the relief Gilgamesh gained with prisoners and whores along the way, there were some hungers aimed at this specific man.

The fuck had less violence than he’d been expecting. No blood or shattered bones, nor even careless bruises. Not even cruel words or torments of a similar kind. The surest omen of doom was that the night thus far had come without mind-numbing pleasure, or even base arousal. Nor was it gentle, with a veneer of loving consideration coaxing him to relax to the king’s whims.

It was possible, in theory, that Gilgamesh was genuinely exhausted from the trip and lacked the energy for both sadism and mindfulness. That required the man to have something greater than E-rank luck, so the theory was currently held as the least likely.

More likely, Gilgamesh was setting the stage for some psychological torture. The most the man could do was relax and distance himself from the world as much as possible.

Gilgamesh put a hand on the man’s thigh, sliding up and inward. Two fingers reached into the labia, dipping into the spent come. Enough time had passed for the cum to grow cold and clammy, and Gilgamesh languidly rubbed at the man’s cum-filled insides. Digging two fingers in, Gilgamesh scooped out some of his own seed, coating his fingers.

With chilled hands he pressed the index and middle finger together to the clit.

“You’ve been quiet today.”

The king spread his fingers in a scissoring motion as he traveled back down, tracing the labia and leaving a pale ring of cum around the cunt.

“I welcomed you home, didn’t I?”

When Gilgamesh’ fingers met at the base of the vagina, he lifted and put a thumb on the clit. The man gasped softly as hands turned in small circles, index finger briefly brushing against the inner folds.

“But you’ve made no requests. No demands or pleads to me.”

“What could I ask of you, oh mighty king, that you have not already given me?” Red eyes glared at the jab. Despite everything, such a smart mouth couldn’t curb itself enough to keep from spitting in the face of it’s best interests.

His fingers moved away from the cunt, thumb still on the clit, hand twisting to reach for the lower belly. “And now there’s this.” The king’s thumb lifted, his hand resting solely on the abdomen. Gilgamesh rose, hard again, and shifted over the man, lining himself up with the body beneath him.

“What about it?” And it was as much a true question as it was rhetorical. Possibly even more so.

“Tell me something, mongrel. Why haven’t you said a word about this?” Gilgamesh took him all the way to the root, never breaking eye contact. The hand flattened over the stomach, right where the slightest lump could be felt if one knew to search for it.

What’s there to say, the man considered asking. Playing the fool to the end. But he’d grown too weary. Too much time away from the king let his ability to disassociate decay, and the question- this question was one he’d worried over for too long to ignore it when it came.

Gilgamesh began moving inside him, going slow without the care needed to be gentle. The man fixed his gaze on the king’s chin as he spoke.

“I’m here-“ in your palace, under your rule, but Gilgamesh had made his belief in the universal range of his kingdom clear- “I exist only because you want to see if I can be broken more than I already am. So anything I say will become your weapon.

“If I ask you to kill them, you’ll make sure they live, and then force me to see them every day so I can be reminded of what you did. If I beg you to spare them, you’ll rip it out of me. And if you think the additional weight diminishes my “already limited” usefulness, you’ll have them aborted anyway.

“If nothing else, you’ll most likely kill it in the months to come when you next break my spine, or tear off an arm, or bring a whip to my back. Nothing will change, regardless of what I want. They’ll die or live at your hands.

“So. Do as you will.”

“...Do you think so little of your child’s life, that you would give up on it before it begins? Or perhaps you think so poorly of your own ability to care for it, so you choose to give up before you even try.”

“No. I know I could do my part. I just don’t think much of your ability to care.”

“...Hm.” Gilgamesh smiled. “Shirou Emiya. You’ve grown bold again in my absence, if you’ve come to think so highly of yourself.”

“If you say so.” He spoke through gritted teeth, still on edge from hearing his true name said aloud. A hand gripped his chin harsh enough to bruise, but both of them knew that Gilgamesh was holding back.

“So you think you have enough value that everything the king does is about you? That the lives I take are merely to torment your naive heart?”

It’s a testament to his strength that he didn’t scream, and a testament to how long it’s been that he couldn’t keep the malice out of his face. He wanted to say, you showed me just how much damage I can do by loving someone. That gaining the slightest bit of comfort from someone’s joy and presence was enough to sign their death warrant.

Gilgamesh’s smile grew a little wider. “I dislike having to put our usual games on hold longer than I already have. Sadly, it seems I shall have to.” The king released his prisoner’s face, leaned in close on the next thrust and whispered, “But it’s up to you to keep it alive.”

…………………….

“Hey.” A hand on his shoulder gently shook him awake. “Time to get up.” Blearily he opened his eyes at the servant. He knew this one’s name, but in his mind he labeled her ‘servant X.’ Gilgamesh was nowhere in sight, but he wasn’t willing to get careless. “Can you move?”

The soreness in his limbs was light compared to what he remembered from before the expedition. “Easily.” He sat up, looking himself over to take inventory of the damage. The wounds on his body were as sparse as they are after a night of gentle treatment, but even Gilgamesh at his most considerate took more from him than he’d taken the night before. “That doesn’t bode well, does it.”

“I- I wouldn’t know. But...” X turned off to the side while he reached for the bowl and cloth she’d brought. He was grateful for the modesty she tried to give him, even if it’d been rendered unnecessary from half a decade of mornings when he'd been left too weak to care for himself. “I’ve been told- told to take you back and get anything that didn’t come with the room.”

Which meant a jar of magical medicine used to keep him pretty and a pitcher of water. The blankets loaned to him been returned before the King's watchful eye returned, and his clothes-

The implications sunk in and he froze in his tracks, before carefully setting down the damp washcloth and searching X for any sign of guilt. He’d been told before that when he died it’d be while the king watched, yet to remove the few traces of his presence from the palace boded ill. “Am I to face the executioner, then?”

“No!” X hurried to say. “I- I don't think- Not right now anyways. His Majesty- he’s giving you an apartment. Somewhere bigger to stay.”

He cut her a disbelieving look and fingered the metal collar wrapped around his throat.

“I don’t mean that you’re getting freed, you’re just… getting more privileges. Somewhere nicer to stay.”

“A bigger cell.” Granted, his current living quarters were the size of a broom closet.

X looked away, shifting uncomfortably. “I guess.”

So it was somewhere large enough to raise a child. Or at least give birth without needing to lie on the waste grate. “Did your taskmaster tell you anything about the place I’m going? Anything special about it?”

“I-” X took an audible deep breath and swallowed hard. “Yes. I was told to tell you, if you asked, that- that- the message is ‘Congratulations. You’ve been promoted from toy to concubine’.”

 _‘It’s up to you to keep it alive.’_ The kindness of others is the only thing that has made the cell he resides in suitable over these past few months. Before he’d been able to put up with it, but such poor living conditions would increase the likelihood of a miscarriage.

Of course, this was Gilgamesh. He wouldn’t put it past the king to string him along and then twist the child’s head off the moment it was born.

He didn’t notice that his hand had drifted over his abdomen, not until he caught X staring at it. “...If it doesn’t have a cradle at the least, I’m self-aborting.”

It would be terribly out of character for Gilgamesh to leave hints as simple as not bothering to supply tools that were never going to be used. Still, Emiya could still dream of having some iota of hope that could one day be... rewarded.


End file.
